


"Who Are You, Really?"

by Roarking97



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste Needs Help, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Identity Reveal, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne-centric, Evil Lila Rossi, Gotham City - Freeform, Hawk Moth is Gabriel Agreste, Hurt Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Jonathan Samuel Kent is Superboy, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Mental Health Issues, Miraculous Team, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peacock Miraculous, Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy, Timeline Shenanigans, Worried Batfamily (DCU)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29407623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roarking97/pseuds/Roarking97
Summary: "I swear I know her, I think she is in one of my Economic classes."Damian never takes notice of his classmates. Until one day, when he runs into one of them in a situation he would rather keep quiet.Will a budding friendship lead to more, or will their secrets lead to a demise?
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine & Damian Wayne, Luka Couffaine & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Damian Wayne, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Jason Todd, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 30
Kudos: 270





	1. Chapter One

_September 17 th, 2024. Gotham Recreational Center. 4:57 pm. _

Damian shifted in his seat for the fourth time since arriving at the Gotham Recreational Center for his “highly recommended” group therapy session. While he could understand his father’s and elder brothers’ perspectives on why returning to complete a few sessions would be beneficial after a particularly… difficult encounter with the Gotham villain Scarecrow, Damian could not understand why his best friend always tried to antagonize him by pushing predetermined schedules. The Tuesday evening sessions start at 5:00 pm, but Jon always insists on testing his limits to see just how close he can make it to those set times.

It was not a requirement to “bring a friend”, but it was encouraged. The PTSD therapist states that bringing an individual one finds comfort in, can help with the task of opening up in front of others in a group setting. Or, a friend can be used as a buffer if such a need arises.

All Damian needs is his buffer to arrive and he can relax some. He only plans on including himself in these group sessions for four to five sessions. Three if he is lucky and can move on from this minor setback of his night terrors restarting. He hadn’t experienced a night terror in well over four years before the Scarecrow incident two weeks ago.

Like a switch, the night terrors returned with a vengeance and Damian hasn’t more than an hour’s worth a rest each night since. He was beginning to act like Tim Drake with the amount of 5-Hour energies he has consumed… and that was most certainly not okay.

Damian flicked his eyes over the open space. There are ten sets of two-seater benches arranged in a lopsided circle in the center of the room and one solo chair amongst them for the leading therapist to sit. There are several pairs and a few singular people sitting, either talking quietly with their partner or otherwise occupying themselves. Just as Damian adjusts his seating position for the eighth time, Jon finally opened the door and took his sweet time strolling over to the bench that Damian currently occupied.

“Damian, I know what you’re going to say, so I am just going to go ahead and say sorry for pushing my limits with time… again… today.” He gave a sheepish smile and folded his tall and broad frame into the space next to the slightly smaller young man. Damian closed his eyes and exhaled slowly before replying to his friend.

“Thank you for apologizing and thank you for coming,” Damian swallowed and glanced away from the electric blue eyes of his friend. “I know it isn’t as much as a problem, now that you are living in Gotham instead of Metropolis, but it is still greatly appreciated.”

Jon gaped a little at his friend but nodded anyway and smiled.

The doors to the space opened again, but instead of the lead therapist for this meeting, a man maybe their age or slightly older walked into the room, wearing a faded and well-worn denim jacket with the sleeves missing and black t-shirt and aggressively ripped black jeans. He paused just inside the doorway and Damian watched as his eyes roll over everyone present, hesitating slightly over both himself and Jon. Damian almost instantly bristled, thinking this man was another Wayne Fanatic, but re-evaluated the scene. The man, with his brightly dyed blue hair, lip rings, nose ring, multiple earrings and colorful tattoos was looking for threats among the group. Damian could recognize the action now.

When their eyes met, however, Damian felt a shiver creep up his spine. This man saw way too much, more than what Damian was comfortable exposing. The man turned his head and made quiet conversation to whomever was on the other side of the partially opened door.

Damian nudged his friend and gestured with a flick of his eyes to the man in the doorway. Jon focused his attention on man and furrowed his eyebrows. He leaned ever so slightly toward Damian and gave what information he gathered quickly and quietly to his friend.

“Speaking to a female on the other side of the door, sounds like he is trying to reassure but I’m not positive because they aren’t talking in English. French, maybe? Has a lot more piercings and tattoos than what can be seen,” he shudders slightly, “and I am pretty sure he’s meta.”

“Meta?” Damian hissed, narrowing his eyes on the man again.

Jon nodded and spoke even quieter, causing Damian to lean in closer to hear him.

“I also don’t know how he is alive, there aren’t any visible scars or obvious signs of past traumas, but practically every bone in this guy’s body has been destroyed and repaired countless times.”

“Maybe he is alive because he’s meta?” Damian asks, but Jon only shrugs. They both focus back onto the man in the doorway. Just then, a small pale hand, obviously feminine, grasps onto the forearm of the man. He smiles and nods and proceeds to open the door wider for the female.

Damian’s eyes widen slightly and recognition pulses in his veins. He can’t place where he knows her from, but she looks so familiar. Where the man is hard and rough, his companion is soft and smooth. Wearing a blush colored long-sleeved blouse tucked into charcoal grey slacks and nude heels, she is the epitome of softness. Her midnight colored hair is up in an intricate up-do and her bangs are pushed in a sweeping motion on her forehead. As the man and young woman find their seats, the woman keeps her eyes fixed solely on her feet, making it hard for Damian to look at her eyes to distinguish the color.

“Damian,” Jon hissed in his ear, “it is the same with her, too. Not nearly as bad, but some serious injuries with her, too.” Damian whipped his head to the side to make eye contact with his friend.

“ _Meta?_ ” Damian mouthed. Jon shook his head. Now Damian was confused, a feeling he really didn’t like. If the girl wasn’t meta, then, if Jon’s observations are correct, how is she alive?

Then, who is she?


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hella canon-divergence. I made a Marinette and Luka timeline during the Hawkmoth time. This is hella alternate universe type stuff. 
> 
> This story is a heal whats broken kind of thing told mainly from Damian's perspective, but focuses on Marinette. I think. Will get more specific about that as we go. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> -Roarking :)))

_September 17, 2024. Gotham Recreational Center. 6:43 pm._

“Thank you, Jeremy, for sharing another part of your story. I am happy to see you actively healing.” Dr. Monroe states with a soft smile to a young man who tearfully smiles back in acknowledgement. “Now, next person/persons…Luka? Would you and your friend like to give it a go this time around? I understand this is your second session.”

_So, they are new to the PTSD group therapy circuit, or new to Gotham? Both?_

Damian watches the possible meta, Luka, lean toward the petite girl beside him, who has yet to release her hold on the young man’s arm, and whisper something too quiet for him to hear. _And Jon doesn’t speak French._ The girl tightens her lips and adjusts her posture before giving a small nod of her head. Luka presses his lips gently to her forehead before gazing first at the therapist and then moving his eyes around the circle until landing onto Damian’s hunter green eyes.

Damian involuntarily swallows.

“My name is Luka Couffaine, I am twenty-five years old. I was born and raised in Paris, France. I grew up in a house boat on the Seine. I have a First Cycle Diploma from IMEP Paris College of Music. And, I am a survivor of a seven-year long stint from a magical terrorist in Paris.”

Whispers break out among the participants, but Damian is locked in a staring match with this Luka Couffaine. _A magical terrorist? What? How? Who was in charge of monitoring at JLE? I need details._

“Luka? Paris had a ‘magical terrorist’? What is that? How does that work, if you don’t mind me asking?” Jon asks, and Damian has never been more thankful for his friend.

“It is unsurprising that those outside of Paris are unaware of it. A magical terrorist is pretty self-explanatory, it is a terrorist that uses magic or magical objects to achieve their goal. I believe that, along with a slightly corrupt government keeping secrets from those not in the city itself, the magic caused an interference. News and media within Paris would broadcast what was happening vaguely… but getting those stories to those beyond city limits…” Luka trails off, mouth twisted in a grimace.

“Bâtards inutiles,” the woman beside Luka says, and Damian watches as her fingers seem to grip even tighter onto the man beside her.

“Would you like to add anything, Miss…?” Dr. Monroe’s voice grows quiet as the woman’s lips tighten, paling them from a soft red to pale pink. She shakes her head in the negative and refuses to look up. Luka gently nudges his shoulder against her own. She sighs before finally looking up; keeping her eyes averted, but that doesn’t stop Damien from seeing the most breathtaking blue eyes he’s ever seen. Even if they look to be haunted.

_And she looks so familiar. I know I have seen her somewhere. Damn my inability to make friends._

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I am twenty-three years old. I was born in Shanghai, China and lived there until I was four. I grew up in Paris, France. I have a Level 6 State Accreditation and diploma from ESMOD in Fashion Design. I am currently getting a Bachelor’s degree from Gotham University in Business Marketing.” _Ah, we are in the same course load at Gotham U._ “Like Luka, I am also a,” she swallows hard, her eyes briefly flickering to Damien’s, “survivor of a magical terrorist.”

Luka gently rubs her back as Marinette takes a shuddering breath.

“And something else, but I’m not ready to talk about that just yet,” she quietly adds.

“Je suis fier de toi, Mari.” Luke says to her, and she gives him a shaky smile in return. For some reason, Damian, too, feels proud of her.

“Of course, is there anything you would like to add about this magical terrorist?” Dr. Monroe gently prods, a small and inviting smile on her face. Marinette huffs softly before going into a little more detail than her companion.

“The main terrorist was named ‘Hawkmoth’. He had two partners, not at the same time, during his seven-year reign on Paris. The first was ‘Mayura’, and the second was ‘Juno’. They utilized stolen magical artifacts that allowed them to possess certain abilities that could influence others within city limits. At first it wasn’t so terrible, the villains were fairly easy for the heroes to defe-”

“Paris not only had technically _three_ terrorists, but they also had heroes?” Jon blurts out, incredulous. Damian can’t help but feel the same. JLE is certainly slacking, if this has gone under nose for so long.

Luka clears his throat before speaking, “Team Miraculous, they were a group who had similar magical artifacts that could combat Hawkmoth and his partner. The members, except for one, weren’t always constant, and as akumas progressed to more violent natures as well as increased regularity, a toll was taken.”

Damian watches as Marinette’s fingers start to jump and begins chewing on her lip. Damian recognizes the self-soothing tactics his elder brothers told him about that those without his up-bring often have in times of high stress and anxiety. This situation that he and his family weren’t even aware of as quite clearly taken a toll on this woman.

Just as another participant opens their mouth to ask more questions, Dr. Monroe cuts in, “perhaps we can discuss this next time we are in session? Unfortunately, our time is just about finished, and we need to do our affirmations.”

Damian inwardly sighs, but stands with everyone else in the circle. Somewhat together, everyone but Marinette, speaks the ending phrase to their meeting.

“ _My past does not define me. My present is not my ending. My future is mine to decide._ ”

“Excellent meeting, everyone! We will meet again next week, same time and place. Have a nice rest of your week and stay safe!” Dr. Monroe calls out as everyone stacks chairs and begins heading back to their homes.

Damian watches as Luka takes Marinette’s hand and gently leads her outside.

“I’m going to try and become friends with her, Jon.” Damian is resolute in this. No one deserves to have that much pain inside of them; and she and her friend are their only connection to this Paris situation. JLA needs to be aware of it.

Luka turns and makes eye contact with Jon and then Damian and offers a patient smile. All the while, Marinette stares blankly ahead, her pretty blue eyes lost in the shadows of her past.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a shorter chapter before the nitty-gritty begins.

_September 17, 2024. Wayne Family Estate: Dining Room. 8:24 pm._

Damian stared into his bowl of vegetarian ramen, wondering how he should go about making Marinette, and possibly Luka, his friend. He has never had to make friends before. Jon didn’t really count, and neither did his teammates from the Titans. Hero work often lead to a sense of camaraderie, and his persona as the “Ice Prince of Gotham” allowed him to go without the friendships his peers offered to him. After he broke the wrist of that one student, people stopped trying.

He hated to admit this, but perhaps he needed…

Damian forced back the immediate scowl that tried to form at the incomplete thought.

Damian needed help from…

The scowl once again tried to appear on his face.

“I require assistance from my brothers,” Damian muttered, a little too loudly apparently, for Grayson popped his head into the dining room, eyebrows lost to his hair line.

“What was that, Baby Bird?” Dick Grayson looked excited at the prospect, and Damian had been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t even heard his eldest brother come upstairs from the BatCave.

Damian cleared his throat, worked his jaw, and watched as Grayson walked into the room and sat across from him. A smile was pulling at his brother’s mouth, but his eyes seemed…concerned; which took the sting away from what he was about to ask. “If this gets back to Todd, before I am ready to share with him, there will be hell to pay.” He paused, waiting for his brother’s reluctant nod. _Fucking Grayson, the family gossip._ Damian huffed out a breath and made eye contact with his brother. His eyes were more of a pale blue, so different from Marinette’s…

“I want to become friends with someone. How do I…” insert grimace, “accomplish that?”

For possibly only the second or third time in Dick Grayson’s life, he had nothing to say.

Damian sat and waited for his brother to reboot, finishing his dinner that Alfred had made for him.

Fifteen minutes later, Grayson had yet to say anything. Damian decided to throw the poor man a bone. 

“Of course, I will ask Drake to run a standard background check on her, and possibly her friend? They might be in a relationship though, he seemed quite affectionate with her, and she didn’t let go of him at all during the meeting. Yes, a simple and standard background check on them both. Oh, and we really need to reach out to the Justice League of Europe and ask,” Damian inhaled sharply before continuing, “how the actual FUCK a magical terrorist was able to keep Paris FUCKING France under their thumb for seven FUCKING years?! And how we, the Justice League of America STILL don't know about it TWO YEARS LATER?! Who the FUCK do we have over there? Did we not send anyone with skill over there to help? Do we need to contact International Affairs and Internal Affairs to figure out what the hell happened to allow something as big as this to slip through the cracks?? AND DON"T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE FUCKING FACT THERE WERE HEROES, plural Grayson-plural, THAT DEALT WITH THIS SITUATION!!”

Grayson started sputtering, “whoa, whoa, whoa! Baby Bird, that is a lot of information all at once from you. We’ll touch back on the fact the person you are wanting to become friends with is a girl, and also you might wish to make friends with her possible boyfriend later. What could you possibly mean about Paris?” Grayson’s eyes were now burning with a fury. Grayson understood on the basic level that there was a serious situation and that they had missed it.

"We need to call Drake, get him on the phone. He has the proper skillset for us to start unraveling the amount of bullshit JLE has allowed to pass and has unknowingly been thrown into my lap by this girl and her friend, or lover, or whatever, from my PTSD recovery meeting tonight. Seriously, Grayson, at my PTSD meeting, I found out there was a situation in Paris for seven years while we went along, blissfully unaware of it all because we allowed some idiot to monitor what should have been monitored by us all along. I bet it was fucking Hal. That man assumes everything is a joke." Damian sat back with his arms crossed and raised a challenging eyebrow to his brother. 

Grayson, keeping his eyes on him, slowly pulled out his phone and activated the voice commands. “Call Timmy Boy-on speaker.”

The phone rang through twice before the line connected, and the soft voice of Damian’s immediate older brother, Timothy Drake, carried over the phone.

_“Dick? What is it? I’m still at WE, we have a board meeting tomorrow and I have got to get this paperwo-”_

“Damian and I need you to come home. There is something we need and you are the only one that can do the things we need you to do. Also, I believe we have a code ‘BBIFIIG’ and I can’t even get excited about that because the other thing is actually really freaking important.” Grayson actually pouted, like a child about whatever a _BBIFIIG_ is. That isn’t the important part.

“Drake, it is Damian speaking. I need you to get in contact with the JLE and find out who was monitoring France, and if I find out it was Hal, he will be meeting the end of my katana soon; and I need you to hack into the French and Parisian government's archives and find any information you can on the words ‘Hawkmoth’, ‘Mayura’, ‘Juno’, ‘Akumas’, and ‘Team Miraculous’. It is the of the upmost importance we rectify this situation. The JLA is not to be made a fool of just because our sister team can’t do their damn jobs.” Damian finished with a huff.

Grayson and Drake were both silent, and, eventually, Drake hung up after saying he was on his way home.

“You’re doing all this because you wish to become friends with one girl? I’m all for helping you, Baby Bird, but, what happened tonight to bring all this on? You're usually so collected, I have to admit, I am a little thrown by the amount of urgency you're giving off.” Grayson said softly.

Now, normally, Damian would not care so passionately about these types of situations. But the amount of pain in Marinette’s eyes. Well, that amount of pain truly rivaled his own and he was raised by Talia, Ra’s, and the fucking League of Assassins for the first ten years of his life. He did not know any form of kindness until his family took him in and gave him a true home for the first time in his life.

The fact that his family even cares enough about his emotional well-being to suggest going back to therapy…

So, no, Damian isn’t normally this passionate about one person’s pain. But, he can’t get Marinette’s haunted eyes out of his mind.

“When she spoke tonight, when I saw the haunted look in her eyes, I was seeing myself thirteen years ago when I first came to live with Father and all of you. Bitterness, hatred, and pain warred within her, and, it called to me. I know I am blessed to have been released into Father’s custody, and if you repeat what I’m about to say to anyone- I’ll deny it, but without Father, Alfred, you, Drake, and even fucking Todd showing me what it means to be taken care off and what having a good life actually is, I know I would not have made it very far in this life.”

Damian stood up from the dining room table, empty bowl in hand. He leveled his brother with a look that he hoped conveyed the sincerity in which he spoke. “If I can show this young woman even a fraction of the kindness this family has shown me, then perhaps, she can begin healing properly. No one deserves to have that amount of pain in their eyes.”

With those words, Damian left Grayson at the table, mouth hung open in a gape.

“When Drake gets here, we should do this research in the Cave,” he called over his shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't given up on my other stories! I am just taking a long break from them. Thank you for your patience!
> 
> -Roarking :))


End file.
